Children Shouldn't Play With Wolves
by TheAttentionJustEncouragesHer
Summary: A visit to Mary Winchester's grave sparks a hunt for Sam and Dean, however nothing is as it appears- and their logical path to salt and burn has lead them somewhere... furrier. AU of Children shouldn't play with dead things and heavy AU for Twilight.


_Yes, I am still messing around in the SupernaturalXLeahClearwater kiddy pool. And I can't seem to decide on any one idea to stick to and complete. So sue me- But not because I have unlawfully claimed ownership of property which is not mine- because I haven't. I don't own Supernatural or Twilight. _

**AN: **_This is an alternate version of "Children shouldn't play with dead things" The supernatural episode from season 2. The idea came to me, based on the notion that Tamara Feldman, the actress in the episode was once a fan pick to play Leah Clearwater- and still one of my favourite choices. I've got nothing against Julia Jones, she's just not how I pictured Leah (who is arguably one of the only characters in the twilight series that I actually like, it's saving grace if you will). So I twisted Supernatural to fit Leah Clearwater and Leah Clearwater to fit the episode- I will emphasise this is **AU.**_

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><p>Leah drove.<p>

Rain pelted her small car, seemingly hard enough to drive the car right off course, but she didn't stop. No, she found the tracks running down her windows ironic, in that they matched the mascara darkened ones running down her cheeks.

For the first time since the untimely death of her father her composure broke. Audible sobs wracked her body, her hands on the wheel shook and she jumped at every crack of thunder. Suddenly, her phone rang. She ignored it, just like she had his presence at the door.

Lightning struck, lighting up the woods surrounding her, but she felt safe and sound inside her familiar little car. It was this sense of comfort that prompted her to finally pick up her phone.

Although she half expected it to be Jacob, it was none other than the scumbag she'd snuck out the back door of the Black's house to escape less than ten minutes ago. She considered doing a U turn, knowing that after this conversation, she would really be in need of her best friend, booze and chocolate. Just like Jake had promised.

Her sobs calmed as much as she possibly could, she flipped the phone open.

"Leave me alone!"

"Lee-Lee, I'm sorry."

"You don't get to call me that." she snapped, before his second comment registered.

"You're sorry?" She laughed derisively. "You're sorry? Oh that's great!" Her teeth were audibly clenched.

Her tires screeched as they went outside the designated lines, but she paid it only half a mind.

"I don't want to listen to you! I'm done listening!"

"Just listen to me-" Even she didn't understand the words she cut him off with, until she half choked, half sobbed out "I loved you..."

She'd never been able to put those feelings into words before today, too afraid doing so would make that flimsy dream a reality that wasn't nearly as perfect. There was no need to worry about that anymore, she'd found. The dream wasn't so great either.

The tires screeched, trying in vain to grip the road as they spun out of control, taking her, the car and the phone with them.

Moments later, her safe, familiar, comforting little car smashed with over 100km's of force into the solid concrete barrier that separated the forest from the road and protected all the little woodland creatures from cars.

Leah was dimly aware of the sound of dripping, but the pretty red and silver patterns on the windscreen were just so interesting, and falling into them made the annoying, repetitive, buzzing sound of _something _go away.

* * *

><p>Dean stood in the cemetery, wishing he had never given up on the argument in favour of a visit to the roadhouse instead of this stupid monument.<p>

Looking down at the monument next to his feet (far away from Sam's epic chick flick moment he could vaguely see going on) Dean scoffed. Some poor shmo's tombstone was inscribed with "at rest". Was anyone ever really at rest? The amount of ghost busting he had seen and done in his life time made Dean doubtful such a thing as rest even existed.

Contemplating going back to the impala to drown out the sappy theme music Dean could practically hear accompanying Sam's inner monologue, his attention was caught by a tree that was brown and dried, but not shrivelled or gnarled as tree's of age are wont to become.

Standing back, Dean saw the 'black thumb' effect had made a complete circle of dead grass and fauna around one small memorial.

Crouching down, he read the temporary marker and fingered the flowers which were desperately clinging to their last vestiges' of colour.

_Angela Leah Clearwater_

* * *

><p>One cemetery groundskeeper, one theory of unholy ground, a local directory call and a flash of two homemade FBI badges later, Sam and Dean stood in the on campus office of the late Harry Clearwater. Boxes of books created towers and littered the antique wooden desk.<p>

"So, Dr Clearwater, He taught a class here?" Sam prompted the man's prior to death assistant.

"Yes." The woman stated, eyes not lifting from the cardboard box she was sealing with duct tape.

"He was the Classics professor; he had a great interest in mythology and spiritualism, mostly of ancient cultures. If there was a book for it, he had it." She looked somewhat wistful, before shaking her head slightly. "Which is why I'm still in here, packing and shipping all of this instead of helping Dr Mason."

Sam picked up one of the many unpacked books and flipped through, unnoticed.

"And the Doctor, how did he die again?"

The woman narrowed her eyes.

"For the follow up report, you understand." A sincere (yet totally fake) Dean Winchester smile and the woman was sold.

"Heart attack. Almost three months ago. It's sad, about his daughter... So soon afterwards too. Poor girl."

"Oh?" Sam raised an eyebrow, placing the book back down.

"Mmhmm. His daughter died in a car crash a week ago. And then her boyfriend just last night." She picked up another empty box and began filling it. "They were such a nice family too. I'd always see the three of them. The Doctor, Leah and her friend... Jack? Jess? Jake, that's it. They'd always be in his office on a Thursday afternoon, pouring over the books, they were really into it. But all this death? It's almost like the family was cursed. "Sam and Dean shared a look. "Look I've got a lot of work to do, so if were done here..." she trailed off.

"So a car accident. That's... horrible." Sam prodded, pulling his "I'm so soulful, spill all your secrets to me because I care and I'm sensitive" puppy dog eyes at the middle aged psychologist who, according to the preliminary investigation report on Angela Leah Clearwater was her nine am appointment the day she died.

"She was only a mile from home- the one she shared with Harry. She still went there, you know. Said it comforted her. Almost like her dad was still there with her. Leah was originally seeing me to deal with her abandonment issues- from her mother, though we stepped up her sessions after her father. She was devastated. And so angry. I tried to help her- as both her neighbour and her psychologist but these things take time." The woman lent forward and tapped the file on her table.

"Yea, it can be hard, losing someone like that. Sometimes you do feel like they're still around- like you can still sense their presence... You feel anything like that? "Dean edged, eyebrows raised.

"Well, yes, sometimes, it's a perfectly natural response to loss and grief. Sometimes, we can even fool ourselves into believing... believing they haven't really left at all. I look over to the Clearwater house and expect to see Leah and Harry's shadows on the curtains- sometimes I even think I do. Grief in an incredibly powerful force on the psyche." The doctor, whose eyes had become dazed, saddened during her unintentional monologue shook herself, as if waking from a daze and closed the file.

"Now if there's anything else you agents need, you'll have to make an appointment. My eleven thirty is waiting in the lobby."

* * *

><p>"So, Samuel Uley apparently slit his own throat last night." Sam reported, moving away from his laptop.<p>

"Because that's normal." Dean snarked. "Still think I'm imagining a hunt?"

"No." Sam sighed. "But what could be the cause? I mean, both the Doctor and Angela died normal deaths. It doesn't exactly scream vengeful spirit, and there was no sign of a curse, or hoodoo. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense..."

"I think we should pay a visit to this BFFL little miss windscreen-splatter obviously had." Dean said, putting down the photo album he had snagged from under the oblivious watch of the assistant.

"I mean, he's in here. Everywhere. It's like the kid didn't have a life outside of this girl. It's always " Angela and Jake at the Christmas party" and "Angie help's jakie take his first steps" and "Angeleah and Jake at prom" "Jakie-cakes kissing Angie-pangie's little itty bitie feeties like the pathetic love-slave he is". It's like they were attached at the hip or something. Dude had it bad and stuck in the friend zone to boot!" dean smirked.

"Look, Dean, a guy can be just friends with a girl. You might want to check your facts before you go harassing this guy. Not every guy is just trying to get into a girl's pants you know."

"Of course I know Sammy, did you think I didn't know about gay guys or somethin'?"

Sam sighed, irritated, but Dean cut him off.

"Were you friends with Jess before you hit that?" Sam glared.

"Exactly."

"At least go see her apartment first!" Sam called out after Dean left the room.

* * *

><p>"So I'm sure you got a view of Angela that the rest of the family didn't see, living with her and all. What was she like?" Dean, having broken in to Angela Clearwater's apartment had made a rookie mistake. He didn't check she had a roommate. So, being the entrepreneuring young deviant he was, he flew by the seat of his pants and that's how Alan Stanwick, estranged cousin of the deceased came to be comforting her roommate.<p>

"She was great. Just, really great. "The teary girl, still sitting in her underwear (as he'd come across her) gasped out, breaking into sobs once more.

"She was so..." The girl seemed lost for words. "Great." Dean prompted.

"Yea." She nodded, reaching for another tissue.

"You two must have been really close, then." He continued.

"'We were. People thought we were sisters, more than cousins. But it's not just her. Sam, he killed himself. It's just so horrible" the girl, who Dean was beginning to generate a sense of dislike for, sobbed quietly, greatly differing from the loud, dramatic ones she had lavished in the name of her... cousin.

_Ohshit._

"He was messed up about it for days. He'd been seeing her everywhere."

"well, I'm sure that's normal..." Dean trailed off, uncomfortably.

"He said that he _saw her._ As in, an acid trip or something." Her hands grasped harshly at the tissues, twisting as her face contorted with a look only identifiable as jealously.

She paused. "Which side of the family did you say you were from again, Alan?" She eyed him like a piece of meat.

And not in a suspicious way.

* * *

><p>"So. Angela's roommate who is also her cousin has serious boundary issues." Dean announced, walking back into their cheap hotel room.<p>

Dean froze in the doorway looking at Sam who was paused, awkwardly still on the edge of the bed, leaning towards the suspiciously blank tv.

"Awkward." He muttered, walking in and dumping his jacket. "After Angela's I hit Sam Uley's apartment. A bunch of dead plants and fish to boot, definitely something not of the norm there. Now get up, we've got some grief to council and I've heard the friend zone is a scary place. This might take a while."

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><p>"I didn't realise the college employed grief councillors." Jacob Levi Black was a scrawny, russet skinned boy with black hair in a low ponytail. A year younger than the beautiful and by all accounts incredibly popular Angela Leah Clearwater, he skipped a grade and was a freshman taking all the same classes she was- all signs pointed to the best friend who wished he was more. Dean had seen them a thousand times and every single time it ended with the best friend sulking home alone while Dean took the girl back to his hotel room. Jacob stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face set in a permanent scowl.<p>

"Oh yea. You talk, we listen. Maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever helps jump-start the healing." Dean smiled; eyes crinkling in a way he new disarmed those who would otherwise see him as a threat. Working the crowd was all part of the job, after all.

"Well. I think I'm okay. Thanks." Jacob Black shirked the words and the invitation to open up- his body language staying closed off and just short of aggressive.

"Well, you heard what happened to Sam Uley, right?" Sam interjected as the boy turned towards his door.

"Yea. I did." Jacob stated curtly.

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay. Grief can make people do crazy things." Sam placated. Jacob looked pensive for a moment but obviously took to Sam a touch more than Dean- something of the underdog recognised, no doubt. Because he opened up just a tad.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him, I am. But if Sam killed himself- It wasn't cause of grief." Shockingly enough, the boy didn't sound the least bit sorry.

"No? Then what?" Dean interjected with a demanding set to his jaw.

"It was guilt. Angie's death was Sam's fault and he knew it."

"How was Sam responsible?"

"Well, she really loved that guy." Jacob switched his weight from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. "The night of the accident... she walked in on him with another girl. Her cousin. She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car. Those two- they were part of her family- I mean, Leah helped Emily move away- she paid for her to fly down here, to start a new life. Family was everything to Leah and they just-" Jacob broke off his tirade, visibly shaking with suppressed rage.

Sam and Dean shared awkward glances.

After calming down, Jacob stepped back into the house. "Um, look, I gotta get ready for work so... Thanks for the concern but, seriously... think I'm gonna be okay."

He shut the door in their faces.

* * *

><p>"Well, someone's got some serious anger issues." Dean announced, walking into the hotel room carrying take out bags.<p>

"And vengeful spirit Angela is starting to make more sense, I mean Hell hath no fury..."

Sam grabbed the second bag as Dean sat at the small table.

"I dunno Dean, you said so yourself- even in this girls diary, she's almost too nice. But even if it is her- She's gotten her revenge on Sam, you think it's over?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out Sammy." Dean said around his burger.

"Yea? What's that?"

"Burn the bones."

"Burn the bones?" Sam looked up incredulously. "Are you high? Angela died last week."

"So?" Dean took a sip of his coke.

"So, there's not going to be bones-there's gonna be a ripe, rotting, bloated, body in the coffin."

"Since when are you afraid to get dirty? Huh?" Dean asked, smirking.

"I can't eat anymore." Sam put down his burger which Dean victoriously claimed.

"I'm taking your pie, too." He announced to the nauseous looking Sam.

The empty coffin they dug up later that night did not give Sam's empty stomach any of the satisfaction the still cheerful elder brother practically exuded from not only being proven right about the hunt- but mostly his hard earned (stolen) second slice of pie.

* * *

><p>"You again. Look, I'm fine. Alright? Go away." Jacob Black (who had apparently had both a growth spurt and a confidence boost in the last two days) ground out irritably.<p>

"Yea. You're just projecting emotional stability right now." Dean snarked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Look" Sam cut off Jacob who'd opened his mouth, eyebrows pulled close together- more than likely about to jump to Dean's riling. "We know that, but in order to do our jobs- to get the college of our backs and therefore us off yours, we just need to fill out a risk assessment survey." Jacob's expression didn't lighten. "It'll only take a few minutes, I swear."

Jacob sighed, but nodded. Sending Dean a warning look not to open his mouth, Sam pulled out a notepad and rattled off (in his special 'I'm not a threat' sensitive voice) a few questions on sleeping patterns till they hit a routine, before asking "One final question. Were any of the funerals you've recently attended closed casket? It's just that, seeing a person you knew like that can be specifically damaging if you're already in a frail state of mind..."

"Harry's was- he just looked like he was sleeping. Leah's wasn't... she was pretty banged up. I didn't go to Sam's funeral. Are we done here?"

Sam nodded, returning the pad to his jacket pocket. "That should do it. Just make sure you're sleeping a full eight hours and eating three meals a day and there shouldn't be any more follow up."

The door slammed.

* * *

><p>"Why are we here again Dean?" Sam asked as Dean picked the lock of the apartment that was formerly Angela Clearwater's.<p>

"I'm here to scan for EMF and you're here to protect me from the claws of her crying, needy cousin." Dean said, not looking up. Sam scoffed. "I'm serious Sammy, she wanted to rape me. I don't do clingy, insane women. Not my type."

"Anything with breasts is your type Dean."

The door clicked open and they carefully padded in. Sam nudged Dean in the ribs and pointed to the blackened, wilted flowers in the vase on the counter.

"Those were fresh a couple days ago." Dean muttered, instantly on guard. Lifting his gun, they rounded a corner and were met with the sight of Emily Young, sprawled out on the kitchen floor, a pair of cloth cutting scissors embedded in her chest.

"WHORE" was crudely painted across the floor above her head in blood, a trail of bloody footprints leading from the puddle under the body till they faded down the hall.

* * *

><p>"No body in the coffin, foot prints left at the apartment... What're we thinking, Zombie? Someone could have raised her before or after the funeral- closed casket no one would know the difference. Or the body could have been stolen and kept somewhere so it couldn't be salted and burnt- either way it's looking like little miss perfect's got a living helper- or keeper?"<p>

Sam sighed. "I guess so Dean. But which one?"

"Lack of the body says it's in use so I'm voting Zombie, or Revenant. But better load up the rock salt shells just in case. Better question is, where is she now?"

"I'm guessing with whoever's helping her- their hiding her somewhere, we just can't tell who it is. She was pretty popular- as was her Dad's class. I've been looking up its course syllabus online and not only is it languages and history but it also delves into the mythology and religious practices. The occult. Anyone who paid enough attention had a decent starting point and a whole library of books to borrow from the professor's unattended office. You saw his books- ancient Babylonian, Assyrian, the titles read like a hypothetical 'how to' of magic."

Dean smirked. "So she was well liked, but who did she like back? Who did she trust? You might have your books Sammy, but I've got mine." He waved a light pink journal in the confused Sam's face. "Jacob really knows what I'm going through. Jacob's always there for me when I need him, he's my best friend in a way Emily can't be. She doesn't understand what it's like to grow up abandoned by a parent and feeling apart from your own personal history."

He put the book down. "Wonder if she knew she'd own his nuts even beyond the grave?"

* * *

><p>When Jacob answered the door his customary ponytail was missing, in its place was a closely shorn cut resembling Dean's own hair. His expression- once confusion- quickly melted to anger once he saw them at the door but didn't get a chance to voice it as they pushed past him into the house, guns raised but not trained on him, yet.<p>

"We know she's here and we know what she's done. Lead us to her and we can sort this out. Otherwise people are just going to keep dying." Dean calmly demanded, making sure to keep his tone hushed.

"I don't know what- She hasn't done anything alright? It's just- you know what, see for yourself." And he was suddenly in their personal space. "But you hurt her..."

Jacob who, (now that they noticed it) seemed to have aged (and _grown_) yet again (what was that, the 3rd noticeable difference in as many visits? Someone must have been hitting the steroids.) led the brothers down a hallway and then a flight of stairs, into the basement.

Sam did a cursory glance at the room before refocusing on Jacob in case he got violent, but Dean spent more time surveying their surroundings. Bed with satin sheets, women's underwear, sleepwear and clothing strewn around and _was that a chain in the wall? _ In his expert opinion, it looked like something from a movie. The kind of movie Dean was familiar with, therein, being the kinky kind. Mentally Dean titled the movie 'My sexy killer captive'.

Thinking over, both he and Sam trained their guns at roughly torso height as they turned the final corner and came to...

A teenage girl sitting calmly at a computer. The supposedly _dead _teenage girl was calmly surfing Ebay.

"Angela?" Sam hesitated. The girl turned around, proving that she was, in fact, the girl they had been investigating, and smiled at them. "Only the old man ever really called me that. Folks call me Leah. Who are these guys, Jake, You upgraded friends from Embry and Quil to G.I Jo and Rambo?" she motioned with her head towards their still raised guns.

Jake merely smiled, awkwardly.

"She's pretty chatty for a murderous raving dead girl" Dean murmured under his breath.

"Oh... you don't still think that was me, do you Jake? I mean, you were with me the whole night, remember?" This elicited the first full smile they'd seen on the boys face at all.

Sam and Dean shared a confused look, and Ang- _Ehem_ Leah decided to explain.

"My dickhead of an ex fiancée turned up dead, Jakey over here for some reason suspected me (Like I'd ever want their dirty ass blood all over anything I'd ever own) so he chained me up for a night but let me go when he got the phone call that my back stabbing whore of a cousin turned up dead as well, seeing as I couldn't have possibly done it."

"So why are you telling us this?" Sam countered, eyebrows furrowing.

"Because you came barging down to my supposed secret burrow (here she jabbed a thumb at a rudimentary sign taped to the concrete wall reading "The secret fortress of doomly awesomeness where we hide the freak of nature") toting guns, it seems to me you didn't come here for tea and crackers. Also, tell anyone and they'll assume you're half baked. Live with it."

Dean pulled Sam away from the now 'playfully' bickering friends to whisper "This makes no sense. We've got a chatty dead girl with an apparently air tight alibi and were supposed to believe the two people who pissed her off most in life just suddenly dropped dead?"

Sam crossed his arms. "What are we supposed to do, Dean? As far as we know, she hasn't done anything. Should we just cap her now?"

Dean huffed "please Sam, ignoring the obviousness of the fact _she's dead,_ who else could be doing this? It all adds up. The unholy ground, the dead cheaters, the dying plants, you know we've gotta gank her. No matter how pretty a face she wears, she's killing. Of course it's her. How could it not be?"

Sam's eyes had widened, focusing behind his brother.

"You could ask her."

Life flashing before his eyes and squeezing them shut, Dean turned on the spot, anticipating a bloody death.

After a blank moment, he cautiously opened one eye, than the other. Leah was standing quite neutrally, a respectable distance from his person, but her eyes were dark, troubled.

Demonstratively, she picked up a potted snap dragon and lifted an eyebrow, indicatively, when the pretty plant held its colour and life and most certainly didn't curl up and die.

"You could just ask me." She repeated.

Glancing to the side, Sam noticed Jacob stretched out on the bed behind them-"he's sleeping." Leah stated, noticing his gaze. "It's happening to him too."

Both sets of eyes focused on her, awaiting her continuation, but she merely smirked with mischievousness that didn't light her darkened eyes.

"Well, aren't you going to ask?"

Dean sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes (forgetting where he was for a moment) before giving in.

"Ok. What's going on?"

Leah crossed her arms and leaned into the cold wall.

"Look, I'm not too sure myself, ok? I got into the ac-accident ( her voice wavered at the reference to her death) and it got _**dark **_but then I woke up and I was in a coffin in a funeral parlour –thank god I wasn't buried- so I just –_I ran_ and I don't really remember much, but I hid in the forest and then I heard a voice-it was like he was speaking in tongues- and then I started to recognise some of the words from my dad's old books so I ran out and ended up at the border of the cemetery and there was Jacob and he was _Jacob _and I finally came back to myself and I was _so scared _and he just dropped the book and _ran to me" _ she stopped to calm herself under the pretence of taking breath.

" I've read some of my dad's books, they can get pretty ...weird, so I know what you're thinking, but Jake never finished the ritual, and I'd been up and about before he'd even started so it just _didn't make sense!_ B-But it didn't matter, because I was back, I was home." Her gaze drifted sideways, no longer able to make eye contact.

"And then I realised I could never go home. I mean, I was dead, so Jake took me in, and holed me up in our old hidey hole" –she gestured around them- "but it was all right, because I had Jake. I've always had Jake." She whispered. "When people started to die I truly thought I'd lost him. How could he accuse me of that? But I saw the tremors, I could smell the tension and the heat and I knew it was-is- happening to him too."

'What's happened to you? What's happening to him?" Sam breathed, urgent.

"Well obviously it's stolen my sanity because here I am pouring out my issues to a bunch of jug heads who like to point guns at me- but It starts with a fever that won't break- never breaks-and pain. Then comes the growth spurts and the appearance changes and finally, for me, it was death. After that, I woke up and then there was these mad skills and now everything is heightened and it's all so alien and I don't- I don't want Jake to have to go through that, too. I don't want him to have to die." She ended, almost silently.

"And you've been in here, since the graveyard?" Dean questioned.

"The whole time. Jake didn't sleep, said he didn't want to wake up and find me gone."

"Well, it's not her. It's not him. Who the hell is doing this?"

* * *

><p>Harry Clearwater's dark gaze lay on his daughters' grave once again and his anger swelled.<p>

_**How dare they?**_

His anger burnt through his veins in a way he knew shouldn't be possible- as he didn't have them anymore- and the circle of blackened flora expanded. Those he had entrusted his precious daughter to had reneged on their duty- he had punished them but it still wasn't enough to calm the burning rage within him. He could only feel glad that his baby girl had moved on, and wasn't here to witness how far he had fallen from the peaceful man he once was.

_**It seems we both fell for cheaters darling, but this time one of us can be avenged.**_

Her sadness had awoken his spirit- her blood mingled with his blood on the amulet they both wore during their final moments- and he was here to take what she was too pure too.

_**They will all pay.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong><strong>So. There you go. There is an entire backstory as to how the twilight universe went AU and ended up here that I could work into a story and or tell anyone if they wish to PM me. R&R?_


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